Six Impossible Things
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Kurt/Puck silly little thing inspired by Alice in Wonderland. "Sometimes, Kurt liked to believe six impossible things before breakfast." Fluff.


**Title:** Six Impossible Things

**Pairing:** Kurt/Puck

**Warnings:** N/A.

**Word Count:** 1,101

**Rating:** PG-13 for sexual things.

**Spoilers:** None.

**Disclaimer:** Glee does not belong to me, these characters aren't mine, they would never do these things, I mean no disrespect, blah blah blah…

**Author's Note:** I was watching the new Alice In Wonderland last night, and I got inspired by the six impossible things theme. Thanks to **Harry Fado** for the idea of Kurt/Puck; I never would've arrived at that conclusion by myself.

_Six Impossible Things._

Sometimes, Kurt liked to believe six impossible things before breakfast. This practice started the first time Puck had stayed the night, when Kurt's alarm went off. Still most of the way asleep he reached for it, but instead of hitting the snooze button, he encountered soft, warm flesh.

There was a groan, and suddenly a strong hand was wrapping around his wrist, jerking it away. "What're you doing?" There was a thud, and the alarm stopped beeping.

Kurt's eyes flew open. Puck was here? He was actually still here, in his bed? Kurt flushed, remembering last night's activities. "What are _you_ doing?" he asked. "My dad will kill you if he finds out you spent the night."

Puck rolled over so he was facing Kurt, still not letting go of his wrist. He smiled wickedly, but Kurt could see something softer hiding behind the smirk. "Felt like it."

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "Come on, Puck. You've never stayed over before. What's going on?"

Puck sighed hugely. "You really want to know?"

"You know I do."

Puck averted his eyes, and Kurt thought he might see a slight pink tint on his cheeks. "I like watching you sleep. You're all peaceful, and stuff."

_1. Puck liked to watch him sleep._

Kurt smiled and kissed him softly. "You're cute."

Puck grumbled angrily, sitting up and running a hand over his shaven head. Kurt noted with some satisfaction the red scratch marks on his back; it was about time Puck had a physical reminder of their time together. "Is your dad gone? I want breakfast."

Kurt glanced at the clock. "He doesn't leave for another half hour."

Puck sighed. "Why do you have to set your alarm so damned early? School doesn't start for years."

"I have a lot of things to do," Kurt said haughtily. "My skin care routine alone takes twenty minutes, and then there's my hair, and picking out an outfit. If I have extra time I practice for Glee."

Puck gave him that look again, the one that made his stomach flip. "I can think of some better things to do."

"Can you?" Kurt asked, trying to keep his breath even.

"Oh yeah."

_2. Puck liked to snuggle after sex._

Puck wrapped an arm around Kurt, pulling him against himself, molding their bodies together. Kurt was still shaking, and Puck kissed his shoulder.

"Got you good, huh?"

Kurt nodded. "You always do."

Puck continued to kiss him, licking and biting his soft skin. "I can't get over how good you taste."

"Yet you make fun of me for making sure I continue to," Kurt replied, rolling his eyes.

"That's different."

"If you say so."

They lay together in a companionable silence, Kurt loving the feeling of being held. Puck was so big and so strong, and Kurt never felt as safe as he did in Puck's arms. He traced circles on his skin, feeling the hard muscles beneath. There were perks to dating football players, oh yes. The things Puck could do with those arms, those hands…

"I love you."

_3. Puck was the first to say I love you._

Kurt froze. "Y—you do?"

Puck kissed the back of his neck, at the base of his spine. "Yeah."

"Oh." The word came out as a sigh, breathy and barely there.

"If you tell anyone I said that, I'll kill you."

Kurt nodded, throat too dry to speak.

"Not that they'd believe you anyways." There was a moment or two of silence before Puck said, "Well?"

"Well what?" Kurt's brain seemed to be a few steps behind, unable to process what Puck had said.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Puck's voice was accusatory on top, but Kurt thought he heard an undercurrent of uncertainty.

Kurt found Puck's hand, twined their fingers together. "I love you too, goof. Did you really think I didn't?"

Puck made some sort of noise Kurt couldn't identify. "Breakfast?" he asked.

Kurt glanced at the clock again. "It should be safe. Come on."

_4. Puck is a pushover._

"Puck, honey? Could you hand me the orange juice?"

Puck glared at him. "You know I don't like it when you call me that."

Kurt's eyes got wide and innocent, and he stepped up to Puck, pressing his body against his. "Really? You don't?"

Puck wrapped his arms around Kurt, hands settling on his ass. "Nope."

Kurt started gyrating his hips, slowly, intentionally. "Are you sure?"

Puck's eyes slipped closed. "Uh huh."

Standing on his tiptoes to reach, Kurt started suckling his neck, kissing the spots that were still red from last night and this morning. "I can't change your mind?"

There was a long silence filled with not so even breathing before, "Maybe."

Kurt smiled against his neck. "Only maybe?" He blew gently in his ear, causing a shiver to run down Puck's body.

"Fine." Puck leaned down and kissed him, hard, tongues clashing together.

Kurt pulled away, a satisfied smiled on his face. "The orange juice, pumpkin?"

_5. Puck was a good cook. Like, really good cook. And he wore an apron while he did it._

Puck set the plate of pancakes on the table. He wiped his hands on the apron, took it off and threw it onto a nearby chair. Kurt felt Puck's eyes on him as he used a fork to transfer two pancakes from the serving plate to his own, and drizzled maple syrup over them.

"Not too much," Puck said. "You'll overpower the subtleties of the flavors."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Okay." He carefully cut out a bite sized piece and put it in his mouth, not sure what to expect. His eyes widened. "Puck, this is amazing."

He smiled, the overly confident smirk Kurt had first fallen in love with. "It's my grandma's recipe."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "There's no pot in here, is there?" he asked, remembering the last time Puck had credited something to his grandmother.

Puck laughed. "Nope. Everything that went into them came from your cupboards."

Kurt decided to take his word for it. He finished one pancake, then another, and was contemplating a third when it hit him that Puck was really here, had really spent the night, had really made him the best breakfast he'd ever had. He felt a grin spreading across his face, a stupid, silly, I-can't-stop-smiling-because-I'm-in-love sort of grin.

"What?" Puck asked, confusion and wariness sneaking into his voice.

"Nothing. I'm just glad you're here." And there was the sixth thing, plain as day.

_6. Puck was actually here, sitting in his kitchen, and he wasn't going anywhere._

7


End file.
